When I was a child, I looked upon my father as a hero. He went to work every single morning and sat in front of the steering wheel. Both of his hands were covered with callus, a trace of decades of labor. As I grew up, I became aware that heroes are in fact everywhere. I started to paint the life of normal people, just like my father, as well as the scenes of their labor. My work starts by going out to the sites and take photographs of their working moments. Such of my record is filled with the images of those working restlessly either outside or at home. I observe sincerity from their beads of sweat, wrinkles on the face and crumpled shirts. When the photo images are translated onto the canvas, my impressions on them are combined with my personal experiences. They are the heroes who illuminate the society with hopeful light, and they are also the reflection of ourselves living through the same era. Furthermore, I am fascinated by the tools and appliances under the dim light, and the workplace itself. The heroes’ site is often littered with rusty, worn out tools. Such candidness is captured through the window of my eyes and is translated into another scenery over the canvas. Previously just an architectural site, the place is reborn to be something more. Where the touches and traces of intense labor pervade lies the portrait of the heroes.